Deeper Than A Mortal Wound
by DelinquentDesire97
Summary: Dean searches for Sam after the events of the Season 5 finale. His past catches up to him as one of the individuals he tortured in Hell has come to take revenge by repaying the favor. The only solace he can find is in the tender touch of an angel who doesn't know when to give up and what to do with the new found feelings. Sorry, I suck at summaries!
1. Chapter 1

Dean stared at the walls that encased him, the 50 shades of beige adding to the wallowing reverie he found himself trapped in. His dreams, aspirations, future flung aside like how Sam delved into the bottomless black pit. He lay there still, hands clasped over his face as his facade of stability feigned in the face of the overpowering despair.

He was scared, the inevitability of sleep closing in like the demons outside the 4 walls and inside of him, they tormented him ripped him up, he'd rather said _Yes_ to Michael then to live through this. Dean's eyelids grew heavy with exhaustion until they fully closed, the wave of nightmares were imminent, Hell was called it for a reason and the stench of death, fresh as it was, clung to his skin. The incessant screams, the 30 long years of unimaginable pain were nothing compared to the last 10 he kept vividly reliving. Dean's screams were muffled as his mouth kept closed in reality yet the nightmare never threatened to cease.

He woke startled; a cold sweat drenched his shirt. He grabbed it by the hem and discarded the piece of thin cloth that once snugly fit to his torso, _not another fucking nightmare, _he mumbled under his breath. He meandered around the room, topless, doubl-no triple checking the salt, the gun under his pillow, the knife under the sheets, the hastily drawn devils trap and the _angel annoyer or AA _he had so wittingly dubbed the sigils.

He sat back down on the bed, pushing his back onto the headboard, his legs tucked against his chest underneath his chin. It was for safety, that extra wall no matter how inconsequential between how he really feels and the thing trying to get closer to him. He closed his eyes momentarily again, the motel room still in his vision, he was frozen to the spot as the crescendo of tortured souls filled the room. Blood spilled out from beneath the mattress pooling on the floor, colouring everything a macabre crimson.

He realised it was terrifying dream when he was awoken by the stroking of his hair,

"Hey Cas," Deans voice unusually timid

"Dean," the bass-like tone resonated through the room, sending chills throughout his body, "are you cold?" as he noticed the breakout of goose-bumps.

"No, no I'm fine," Dean reached out his hand to stop Cas from picking up his shirt, to be honest he was comfortable as the older man raked his hands through his flaxen locks.

"No, I promised I'd look after you," he stood up, pulling off his trench coat and draping it across his shoulders.

"Thanks," Dean's voice reluctant in giving praise, they had become surprisingly close for a human and an angel.

"You're welcome," the room returned to silence briefly "nightmares?"

"Yeah," he sobbed "I can't help it, I remember everything. The pain I could endure, bu-but when I picked up that knife and started slicing...shit Cas!" his voice croaked as emotions took over "I felt powerful and oddly alone, then I come back with fate biting my ass. Sam's gone and no one will give answers, they either don't fuckin' know or don't wanna fuckin' tell me."

Cas' face drooped as he felt the unhealthy grudge radiate from the form that shivered beneath him "What can I do?" the utter turning into more of a sigh.

He knew the question was rhetorical but the constant probing and blatant dismissal continued to add to his festering rage,

"What do you fuckin' think?"

"No, need to be mean," the sadness crept in

"Oh, you're getting good at that," the conversation rising in volume "feelings, the last time I checked you don't have fucking feelings? You just copy other people, I mean come on, who do you think you are? You're not a proper angel by most standards and you fail as human. Pitiful."

"I know," utter defeat laced his words "but at least I know what I am, I don't try and pretend I'm not something else, I know what I've done."

"And what have you done?" he tried to stop himself but he couldn't keep away from the elephant in the room "Nothing that's what you've done, you couldn't find God and you couldn't rescue Sam. I've lost count the amount of times you've switched sides."

"You son of a bi-" Cas cut himself short, the sin of profanity looming on the tip of his tongue "I tried to do what I could, I searched every single day, I betrayed my father for you, I always thought you were a pitiful shell of a man Dean Winchester," this is the first time he's actually been angry, the thought crossed Deans mind "YOU are the one who gave up, YOU are the one who condemned your brother and YOU are the one who kicked this whole thing off. Blame yourself not me."

In that moment of time, it dawned on him, he'd gone too far. Dean's face contorted in a mixture of rage and hurt, he bit on his lip restraining the wrath that wanted to escape. He could taste the metallic blood that dripped onto his tongue; he wiped it off with his thumb and proceeded over to the door closing it to reveal the symbols previously hidden. Cas outstretched arms and voice disappeared in a whirlwind of light. Dean wandered over to the bed, the trench coat lying there as another piece inside of him died. He scrunched it into his hands and cried into the crème fabric as it darkened with salty clarity. Even though he was sheltered by the roof over his head, the sweet cinnamon smell of Cas would always be the shoulder he cries on, it would be his home.

~xXx~

Cas hadn't returned since the incident, Dean was fed up of waiting. He'd already cleared out the liquor cabinet and watched all the casa erotica on repeat, _if I ever see another pair of oversized tits again...never thought I'd actually say that. _He cleared the room wiping the marks that were dabbled on doors, walls and floors. He packed the duffle bag with his shotgun and the rosary beads that had been floating in the bathroom sink, before collecting Cas' coat folding it neatly and carefully on top.

The impala was parked just outside the door; he threw the bag onto the back seat and drove for what seemed like hours. The night and perpetual darkness broken by infrequent headlights that passed him on the asphalt.

After the loop of Metallica albums had ended for the countless time he pulled into a gas station to fill his baby up, buying whiskey in the classy brown paper bag, he'd always been a cheap date, not to mention a quick fuck. The tape crackled to life, the riffs of the guitar running up and down like the path he had chose to walk. He passed by a pair of crossroads before slamming on the breaks, he reversed sloppily up the road.

The liquid courage that fuelled his momentum when he dug up the middle of the road and buried the box, was wearing thin by the time the deed was done. He took another swig feeling the velvety burn caress every nerve in his body, tension released from his shoulders.

"Where are you bastard? Come out, come out wherever you are," his hard exterior flawed only by the giddiness that accompanied the, quarter full, glass bottle in his hand.

"Nice to see you Dean," her timbre dangerously alluring "come to bargain your soul again."

"Yeah, you see I wan-" a hiccup escaped from his swaying body "I want Sammy back."

"Oh, no can do sugar," the southern drawl adding to her condescending demeanour, "you see he's out of my reach in that little cage of his, do you expect me to bust him out? That costs more than your tiny soul, no matter how precious to the big man he is. You should just give up and get on with your life."

"No, no, you listen to me you son of a bitch! I wan-I need Sammy back...NOW!" he broke down his knees hitting the road beneath him, _why the fuck am I crying again?!_

"Shh sugar," he looked at her, he was begging to a demon, _look how far you've fallen. _"How about this, in two days, there's gonna be some demons in the town over. You kill them and come back to me, I'll consider it."

His eyes brimmed with misplaced hope, _Demons lie Dean, _he repeated the mantra over and over again in his head but he didn't listen, "Thank you."

He ran to the door of his car and turned the key, the engine roaring to life. He looked back at where she once stood to find an empty clearing. He sped off, the alcohol coursing through his blood, _who cares if it's a fucking stupid idea._


	2. Chapter 2

Dean parked at another motel, the neon sign giving off a red hue in the middle of the night, the streets were quiet and his accommodation equally so. He took the key off the receptionist and headed to his room on the bottom floor; the door opened with a hollow click and creaked on its hinges. The room was a concoction of bad 80's and a rundown brothel, the walls checker black and white whilst the sheets were red and a scattering of pink heart cushions.

Dean didn't dare to relax before he set up the usual traps, it took twice as long since Sam disappeared but it was starting to become commonplace as of late. He proceeded to the bathroom to shave; he hadn't made the Holy Water yet and he needed to fix himself up, _what would Sammy say if I let myself go? _The blade glided across his skin, scraping the hairs off his face until it became a fine stubble that accentuated his jaw line, he stopped, contemplating with the blade pressed against his neck _It would be so easy, _his trance ended abruptly as a gust of wind swept through the entire room, "Hey Cas"

"Don't hey me, you send me away and then you go to a demon?!" he was indignant

"Have you been spying on me?" his voice flirtatious and accusing, causing Cas to be stunned in silence.

"No...I was just watching, demons don't really agree with me" a half smile creeping across his lips at his huge understatement.

"Well I'm fine," Dean brushed off the other mans worries

"No you're not fine. Don't go."

"What? I'm not going anywhere," he lied through his teeth. _Shit he knows!_

"Do you forget, I can read your mind."

"Fine. But how are you gonna stop me. You and what fuckin' army," he signalled to the surrounding space punctuating his point.

Cas closed the distance between them, looking up slightly they were a hairs breadth away "Do you forget? I'm stronger than you, I pulled you out of hell," the heat and sweetness from his breath warmed Deans skin and flared his nostrils "I can stop you." He pushed Dean's sleeve up and placed his hand on the imprint that remained just below his shoulder.

Deans muscles flexed instinctually "Cas remember what we talked about-personal space," he placed a hand on the angels chest.

"Sorry," the grunt like that of a scorned child, he sat down on the end of the king sized bed. Dean wiped his face with the complimentary towel.

"Come on, you know you'll never stop me," he looked down at the man that was uncomfortably perched on the mattress. He looked completely disheartened, his eyes glistening with restrained despondency. Dean spoke again "For fuck sake, we're going."

"Where?" the trepidation evident

"Out. I'm not spending tonight staring aimlessly at these walls when there's perfectly good places to drink and have fun. Here." He ended his rant with passing the coat back to its owner.

"Thanks," he wore it straight away; _it smells different...like Dean._

~xXx~

Girls danced provocatively against poles their skin clad in minimalist costumes, Dean fit right in hollering and wolf whistling at the performers. _They came on strong, _Cas immediately deduced as he scarcely looked at the women, he stared fixated on the honey coloured drink in front of him. Dean slapped him on the arm "Dude, you've got company...Cas!"

"What?" he glanced upwards at the curvaceous blonde, her assets on show, borderline exhibitionist that did nothing but intimidate the mild-mannered goody two shoes. "Sorry, I didn't see you there."

"Oh it's ok baby," her voice sickly sweet indistinguishable whether it was all an act or the girl herself "let's just have some fun, ok?"

Cas stared at Dean a silent plea passing between their eyes; he did nothing but smirk as the angelic virgin was pulled into the back by his tie. The party didn't last long as it turned sour; a shrill shriek reverberated from behind the silk curtain.

"Sicko" the girl screamed a harsh slap connecting with the boys' face he was taken aback as he held his cheek in his hand. "Security, security," she bellowed out.

"We're going don't worry" as he escorted Cas into the back alley, "what was that about?"

"Nothing," the gruff, gravelly manner alerting the taller boy to what happened

"Di-did you use your mind mojo?"

"Yes, she seemed upset so I told her it's not her fault that her father ran away from home."

"And you think that qualifies as something ok to say."

"Yes." The assurance at which he declared his answer caused Dean to slap the choir boy around the back of his head out of sheer astonishment.

After their less than stellar sexual antics, they hit the bar ordering round after round of sweet alcoholic nectar, Cas just drank and drank the rim of the glass never leaving his lips for more than 2 seconds at a time. "Slow down, there's plenty more where that came from."

"I'm not, how do you say it? Pissed."

"It doesn't mean you have to be." As he reached for Cas' glass.

"Stop. I want to be, I want to forget."

Surprisingly it took another half an hour for the liquid courage to have an effect on the man's body, His speech became slurred and his thoughts muddled and incoherent, he leant on the muscular arm of his friend until he was carried back to the room.

~xXx~

Dean placed him on the bed, and wrestled him out of his clothes. He lay there mentally disjointed and fascinated by the incandescent light fixtures that hung from the ceiling. Dean did exactly the same and pulled the sheets over them "Looks like we have to share," he clicked his fingers in the others inebriated face "stay on your side."

"I can't sleep," he nudged "Dean I can't sleep."

"Shhh" forcibly trying to quieten the rambunctious boy

"Nooooo."

Dean spun around and came to face to face "Cas you son of a bitch, personal space."

"Why do you keep on going on about this personal space? Don't do this; don't do that, just sit there Cas. How about you shut up...bastard!"

Dean was bewildered at the sudden change in persona "What did you just say?" he was less violent and more intrigued.

"Bastard," he giggled "or dick whatever really. You know you've always amazed me, how can a person so handsome be such a sarcastic son of a bitch. I've always noticed you, don't think I haven't. The way you call my name, the way you were jeans so fitting I can see some major crotch." Dean felt a hand glide across his stomach until fingers fumbled with the last scrap of fabric privacy, it slipped inside and slowly started to tug. The desperate need for friction causing the hunter to moan, he grabbed the other mans pants and removed them. They fondled each other their movements becoming erratic with sexual electricity.

Cas' hand was knocked away as Dean turned himself upside down; they were face to face with each other's erections. Anxiety crawled under the covers with them as their inexperience became apparent; Dean initiated it, a quick taste with the tongue. Cas returned the favour until they were both quaking messes unravelling under the partners touch, bobbing and sucking as they both reached climax in unison. They swallowed and Dean reclaimed his original position of face to face. Cas' head lolled into the crook of Dean's neck finding solace in the all-man, all-muscle unexplored kingdom.

"Dean?" the afterglow causing his words to slow.

"Yeah," he answered simply

He drifted into purgatory the realm between dream and reality, "Thank you. When I'm with you I feel...I'm at my most human, most normal." They drifted off to sleep simultaneously listening to the lullaby of their slowly intertwining hearts.


	3. Chapter 3

The sky was still dark by the time the Hunter had arisen from his orgasm induced slumber, the springs creaked with the shifting of his weight as he collected the remnants of his outfit from the night before, sniffing his shirt to see whether it was still wearable. He was glad he'd secretly packed the bag last night; he just slipped his gun into the waistband of his jeans, pulling his outer shirt over to hide it from the prying population.

He eased the door shut waiting for what seemed to be the jolting metal click of the lock in the sought after tranquillity. Every sound was heightened the footsteps on the side walk, the turning of the key, the ferocity of the engine as the impala pulled out of the car park.

~xXx~

The town was quaint and unnervingly peaceful for a demon siege, it was an amalgamation of modernization and traditionalism. Houses with the white picket fences and award winning shrubbery, as children played in the streets oblivious to the evils he was brought up on. He envied their insignificant lives, _I bet their worst nightmare is the wrong length of their lawns; _he wandered around the mall that stuck out like a sore thumb in the suburban landscape. Women and blatant trophy wives were abundant, a mixture of the conservative cardigans and the new short dress, high heeled stars of casa erotica and busty Asian beauties, they looked him up and down, _you still got it, _he bragged inwardly.

He roamed the stores whispering _Cristo _under his breath, remaining vigilant in his search for otherworldly reactions. For a couple of hours, nothing happened; he gulped loudly as he turned round to face the final frontier. Victoria secret a graveyard for the naive men, luckily Dean was experienced...to an extent. The women looked at him curiously as he averted his gaze, passing them, peering at their chests every so often; he did a double take as he saw two women playing with a set of dildos and strap-on's, completely dazed with the mental re-enactment of his vivid sexual fantasies until a vivacious girl stepped in front of him slapping his defined ass in the process

"Hey," he said smiling sneakily, _she digs it._

"What can I do for you today?" her chocolate, brown eyes staring into his own

"Give me your num-"he remembered Cas lying in his bed snuggling up to him last night "I was looking for a gift."

"Ok, anything in particular?"

_Think Dean think, _he scanned the shelves his eyes falling upon a female angel costume complete with white feather-like hand cuffs "That."

"I'll get it for you," he waited at the checkpoint; the awkward ambience turned suffocating as they ogled him. She finally materialized after 5 minutes. "That'll be 15 dollars."

"Thanks," he handed over the money hastily and whispered the word before he left "Cristo." The cashiers including the girl that served him jerked their heads toward him; the pupils had completely devoured the rest of the eye like the evil hat now consumed them, void of humanity. _Shit, _the single word running through his head, he'd stumbled onto a nest. He couldn't escape fast enough; the door was already covered by two of the bitches and the back door by another pair. _Tch, _the sound venting his stupidity as he made his way to the fitting room, locking himself into one of the cubicles. Dean whipped out his hand gun, the slamming of doors marking their arrival in the adjacent cubicles; he unloaded 3 bullets into each side. The slump of bodies followed shortly after, he was satisfied with his shot until the flimsy wooden barricade was torn off its hinges, he pulled out the butterfly knife from his ankle, swinging at the brunettes neck to no avail. She grabbed his arm twisting suddenly and launching his head against the mirror behind him, he glanced at the now refracted reflection spotting the murderous intent leave her eyes as they reverted back to normal.

~xXx~

The freezing water was thrown over his limp body, a naked bulb swinging weakly. The circulating air was acrid and humid making him sweat even with his drenched body. He couldn't move his hands or his feet; the only action he was able to perform was the swivelling of his neck.

"He's awake" the girl spoke sweetly but Dean could still pick up the distaste.

"Hello sugar," she came from the same place as the crossroad bitch. His pupils dilated as they adjusted to the sudden contrast in light, the blurriness started to dissipate and the 5 demons came into view.

"A party? For me, you didn't hav-"a punch was planted on his face breaking his nose instantly, he spat the blood onto the floor, which had trickled into his mouth "guess you didn't get the joke."

"Oh, no I got it honey I just didn't find it funny."

"Huh," he didn't dare to provoke her when he was this vulnerable

"You don't remember me do you?" she placed her hand on her hip

He looked at her face, but no memories jumped out, none that included red hair and green eyes "I think I would have remembered a pretty thing like you."

"Dean," she used her hand to cradle his chin "word of advice, flattery doesn't get you anywhere," she kneed him in the gut, more blood spluttered onto the floor "see I was one of those in the 10 years, the people you sliced and diced when you were a demon-in-training."

He grimaced at the recollection "Mira."

"Bingo. So you do recall me, sugar. Although I go as Arima now, you know how it is demon and everything now. You know after you left, Alistair decided to adopt a new pet, a new prodigy. Guess who?" she waited but got no answer in return "that's right me! And I stayed for the advance classes. He taught me so much but then your psycho, psychic brother went and offed him."

This elicited a reaction from him, he fought against his restraints dying to kill her, he settled for spitting blood in her face "Fuck you, bastard!"

"No, no! That wasn't very nice," she kicked below the belt causing his knees to turn inwards with the blinding pain "you're gonna experience a whole new definition of pain."

She stopped talking as a metal tray was wheeled into the room; Arima removed the cloth flamboyantly revealing the assorted instruments of torture. "Let's get started big boy."

~xXx~

Cas awoke alone and panicked to find the bed vacant, daybreak making the shadows dance along the motel walls. He stood swiftly and naked the abrupt drop in temperature strangely pleasurable, he moved to the bathroom to find it empty and came back to the bedroom where he noticed a note lying on the kitchenette counter

'_Gone out, will be back soon. If you remember what happened last night we will talk about it when I get back in_

_ Dean'_

He vaguely reminisced about the night before, the memories inconsistent yet enjoyable, he felt a stirring in his abdomen and glimpsed downwards to see little Castiel standing to attention. Suddenly the door opened and he was greeted by the maid

"Room cleaning."

"Thank you," he was completely obvious to his embarrassing situation

"Oh I didn-"she was cut short by an ear-piercing scream as she threw towels at him

He was still sporting a boner "Sorry," he picked up his clothes and made his way to the bathroom, composing himself and walking out again this time fully clothed, "I'm just going to go." The maid nodded a silent agreement passing between them. Cas walked out the room; his cheeks hot and red as he smiled unknowingly _were the hell are you Dean?_


	4. Chapter 4

The dagger cut the skin with a sickening rip, Dean persevered through the pain with sheer tenacity and unrivalled determination. He counted every prolonged second that the pain added to the pit of despair that anchored him to reality. He grunted and balled his hands into tight fists, his muscles contracting and releasing under the point of the wicked blade. "I thought you would have been into this sugar," a bitter sweet giggle rising from her curvaceous frame "you were always the kinky one, a rough fuck after tender love."

"Fuck...you!" he allowed himself a space between words to compose himself, hiding his weakness, _the only useful lesson he'd learnt from Alistair. _Arima became impatient signalling to one of her entourage who placed a soft hand on his forehead. In one swift, deadly movement the hilt of the blade jutted from his shoulder, blood pooling on the floor beneath the restraints. The pain was amplified, under the female demons touch, its intensity bringing him to the brink of unconsciousness.

"Ha, haha...hahaha," they stared at him perplexed, "that the best you fucking got bitch! Looks like I was the better student." She grabbed his hair, shifting his head backward to reveal a passed out Dean.

~xXx~

He awoke startled unsure if his eyes were still closed by the darkness that encased him, he was alone, after years of working the job you come to develop a...how did Sammy put it, _sixth sense for the Supernatural. _It took time to adjust but after a few seconds the engulfing darkness became familiar to the point he could make out the outlines of objects. The room, for bordered windows, was newly refurbished, laminate flooring and silvery beige wallpaper strung up wall to wall and topped off with a faux-fireplace.

He struggled still basking in his futility, looking at his makeshift shackles that were strapped to two chairs beside him and securely fastened to the floor with steel nails. That was when he detected the absence of pain, the stab wound in his shoulder healed, and the cuts that tarnished his skin gone. He questioned their existence, only momentarily, until he accepted the fact of their reality, _perk of the job accepting things for what they are-not making excuses. _The choice was obvious, Deans voice breaking the silence, alerting any of the surrounding predators "Cas, get your ass down here!" He said it one more time "Cas!" No answer was given, no angelic sign, _the enochian sigils, what's the fuckin' point Cas if it blocks you!_

"You finally with us, Dean!" her grating voice entering the room before she appeared

"Didn't want to keep the party waiting," a weak smile spreading across his face.

"Oh, well thanks for thinking about me sugar," she straddled him the close proximity making him recoil "don't jump, you'll get me excited! You see I've realised something," her anger became evident as she broke one of his ribs, he screamed in agony "no matter how much I break you, cut you into tiny, tiny pieces you'll never give in and I've had enough. So I've arranged something extra special you."

"You didn't have to...sugar," imitating her southern drawl.

"Oh but I did," waving her hand, followed by a djinn walking into the room "you see if I can't break you physically, then I'll do it from in here," pushing his forehead backwards with her index finger.

The djinn approached, his feet gliding across the room, commandeering attention with a gravitas of mysticism, Dean watched its hand completely as he reverted back to childlike dread, the last experience flickering through his mind like the swaying light bulb that hung from the ceiling. Then the monster's hand was placed on his forehead.

~xXx~

He knew it wasn't real, a fabricated nightmare, but the air heated from the hellfire affected his senses, the prickling of skin the unpleasant pungency of burning flesh. He was submerged into the dreadful world and was confronted with the scene that played out unwillingly in front of him, Cas was strung up by an assortment of archangel blades pinning him to the rack he escaped from before, each blade non-fatal but stung as light escaped from the glowing orifices.

_Cas, _he tried to scream but no sound left his mouth, _Cas no please! I'm sorry! It isn't me! I promise! _Cas gave him a look of hatred; the resilience and strength he'd admired disappeared from those oceanic orbs. He seen his reflection in the pupils that held no response, his skin was a mixture of human and oddly grey like the vortexes of electrified smoke. He was the very thing he hunted, _demonic bastard! _He was taken out of his self-loathing as fake Cas spoke, the hurt clear

"Why Dean? I lo-" Dean couldn't control himself, the blade appearing his hand and thrust into throat, twisting slowly as the blood trickled down the length of the weapon covering his hand, miraculously Cas was still alive.

~xXx~

The demons watched as he suffered under the djinn's touch the hot streaks of tears carving through the blood that paved his cheeks, incoherent mumbling between hushed breaths "Cas...Sorry."

~xXx~

Back in reality, Cas had scoured the town from dusk 'til dawn, he chose to sit on the hood of the impala when his search ended to no fruition; he stared at the moon basking in his Father's creation of midnight beauty. The pearl like surface, reminiscent of a silver pool were he drowned in his thoughts; he picked up his phone he had recently acquired from Dean and stared at the artificial light ringing Dean for the umpteenth time that night. There was no answer as he was greeted by an automated voice that confused him to no end, _why did he want to leave a message? I want to speak to Dean. _When he hung up, droplets fell onto the screen, he lifted his hands to his face touching the warmness that trickled from his eyes, he was speechless for no human had he experienced this onslaught of emotion. He cradled his phone, waiting for Dean to call back.

That's when he heard the snap, as the bone cracked in Dean's chest, the sigils had been broken and in that window of time he had pinpointed the location and was already heading over there, a force of unadulterated love and pure need to protect, _no one hurts Dean._ Cas landed on the lawn of Dean's prison in a matter of seconds, his mere presence caused the door to rip off its hinges and the heads of the weaker demons concave like bubble wrap, his eyes like holy fire burnt with deep seated justice. He instilled fear into the weak minded sinners. He was a whirlwind of ass-kicking, demon smiting pain, the daggers concealed up his sleeves slashing throats. He flipped the hilt in his hand, severing limbs and earthly bonds as the plumes were purged from their bodies and sent back to Hell. He threw the dagger, as it landed in the neck of the djinn that rocketed to laminate floor, he stood in front of Dean pressing his fingers against his head to heal his wounds. He lifted Dean from his bonds, Cas strength making the task easier. He went to exit, with the taller man slung over his shoulder, when he stooped as Dean grabbed the blade and stabbed straight through the eye of an encroaching demon.

As Cas crossed the threshold, the last demon stood in the middle of the crater where he'd landed

"No can do sugar, that's my prey."

"He's no prey, he's my," Cas desperately wanted to say it but he couldn't "friend."

"Friend, I'm sorry but this ain't no happy ending."

"I never said it was...it never is."

"I'm sorry," she placed a hand on his hip, "who are you?"

"Castiel...I'm an angel of the lord." His voice gruff with impatience, _you shouldn't be conversing with a demon._

"Oh his precious little Cas!"

"Bite me, you punk ass bitch," he was proud, though he'd never tell Dean, of his swearing he learnt everything from the taller man.

"Oh, sorry sugar, looks like you've got a sassy pair of wings on you!"

"You don't know the extent of it," Cas turned to Dean, whispering softly "Close your eyes Dean." He did as he was told, Cas pressed his lips against Deans' cheek, spreading his wings that were predominately white but laced with gold and silver, the demon combust at the sight of the feathers, her shadow burnt onto the ground where she once stood. He flew with Dean in his arms, his tears and sobs caught in the blood stained hair, the only reason he knew that Dean was still alive that the embrace was as warm as the hunters smile, that the angel yearned for so desperately.


End file.
